NRLF 


B   M   7E3   315 


MY    SHIP 

AND  OTHER  VERSES 


MY    SHIP 

AND  OTHER  VERSES 

BY 

EDMUND   LEAMY 


WITH  A   FOREWORD 

By 
KATHARINE  TYNAN 


NEW  YORK 

JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


MCMXVII 


COPYRIGHT,  1917, 
BY  JOHN  LANE  COMPANY 


Press  of 

J.  J.  Little  &  Ives  Company 
New  York,  U.  S.  A. 


?S  *>£ 


TO 
MY  MOTHER 


371651 


Acknowledgment 

Many  of  the  verses  in  this  volume  have  already 
seen  the  light  of  day  in  the  following  publica 
tions,  to  the  Editors  of  which  my  thanks  are  due 
for  permission  to  re-print  them :  The  New  York 
Evening  Sun,  New  York  Times,  New  York 
Times  Magazine,  Boston  Globe,  New  York 
Tribune,  New  York  American,  New  York  Even 
ing  Mail,  The  Peoples'  Home  Journal,  The  Aden 
(Arabia)  Focus,  The  Uganda  (Africa)  Herald, 
The  East  African  Standard. 

E.  L. 


Apologia 

//  that  my  songs  are  sad,  Beloved, 

'Tis  but  to  hide 
The  joy  I  know,  the  happiness 

You  by  my  side; 

So  that  the  Gods  who  would  destroy 

May  hear  my  sigh 
And  judging  love  a  futile  thing 

Go  heedless  by. 


vii 


Foreword 

Edmund  Leamy — how  the  name  recalls  an 
other  Edmund  Leamy,  the  truest,  simplest,  finest 
of  Irish  patriots  and  gentlemen ! — has  inherited 
the  gift  of  true  poetry,  which  in  his  father's  case 
found  expression  also  in  stories  and  oratory. 
There  is  something  of  the  wind  and  the  weather, 
of  wild  countries  and  a  wild  adventurous  young 
heart,  in  his  poems.  His  father's  adventure  was 
the  one  upon  which  so  many  have  embarked,  will 
embark — the  great  adventure  for  the  Dark  Rosa- 
leen.  The  son's  adventure  carries  him  over 
oceans  and  continents,  but  he  has  always  the 
faithful,  the  untravelled  heart  that  belongs  by 
right  to  his  father's  son. 


"And  yet  I  see  the  sunset  adown  the  Western  skies 
And    glimpse    within    the    wonderness    my    mother's 

pleading  eyes. 
And  yet  I  hear  the  West  Wind  sob  softly  in  the  trees 


x  Foreword 

That  vainly  cloaks  her  broken  call  far  o'er  the  distant 

seas. 
And  still  when  shine  the  dim  stars  my  wander-heart 

would  go 
Away,  and  back  to  her  dear  side  and  dreams  of  long 

ago." 

There  is  much  of  youth  in  the  poems,  and  won 
der  and  admiration  and  the  spirit  of  adventure, 
and  the  wind  in  the  heath  makes  colours  and  life. 
The  genuine  spirit  of  Romance  walks  through  his 
poetry,  which  should  be  as  good  as  a  sea  voyage 
for  sedentary  folk  in  parlours.  And  with  the 
riotous  enjoyment  of  colour  and  phrase  and 
swinging  metre  there  is,  as  befits  his  father's  son, 
nothing  that  is  not  clean  and  good. 

KATHARINE  TYNAN. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

OUTWARD  BOUND 17 

THE  SLAVE 20 

"Mr  LIPS  WOULD  SING "    ...  22 

AFRICA 24 

LIGHT  HEART 26 

MY  SHIP 29 

LULLABY 31 

THE  TREASURE  SEEKERS       ....  33 

THE  VISITOR 35 

VISIONS 36 

A  BROKEN  SONG 39 

AN  ARABIAN  INCIDENT 41 

ADEN 43 

THE  OLD  TOWN 44 

MEMORY 46 

THE  BALLAD  OF  THE  HOOKAH    ...  48 

BROKEN  IDOLS 51 

OLD  SONGS 53 

xi 


CONTENTS  xii 


PAGE 


A  WISH 55 

NIGHT  IN  KAMPALA 56 

REVELATION 58 

"I  WONDER "        60 

WANDERLUST 61 

KAMPALA  OF  THE  HILLS 62 

THE  DAISY  FIELD 64 

Do  You? 66 

A  SUMMER  DAY 68 

EAST  OF  SUEZ 70 

LAND  Ho! 72 

SPRING  NIGHT 74 

IN  THE  TOILS 75 

JOY  o'  LIFE 78 

Music  MAGIC 79 

DREAMS 82 

AN  INVITATION 83 

GETHSEMANE 86 

SUNSET  IN  EGYPT 87 

DESOLATION 9° 

THE  NATION 91 

THE  ROADHOUSE 93 

KINSHIP 94 

A  PASSING  PRAYER 95 


xiii  CONTENTS 


PAGE 


SURCEASE 96 

THE  PROMISE 97 

KILLOWEN 98 

CASTLES  IN  THE  AIR 100 

THE  HEALER 101 

DINNY'S  BOY 103 

PORT  SAID 105 

ENSLAVED 107 

ON  BLEECKER  STREET no 

HAPPY  is  HE 112 

EDEN 113 

THE  JOURNEY 114 

"WANDERER,  WANDERER,  WHY  Do  You 

STAND —              116 

THE  LURE 117 

OLD  LOVE  LETTERS 118 

"MISSING" 119 

RESPITE 120 

THE  LAST  JOURNEY 121 

A  QUESTION 123 

RESTORATION 124 

GHOSTS 125 

THE  SOUTHERN  CROSS 129 

THE  MAIL-RUNNER 131 

AFRICAN  DAWN 133 

NIGHT  IN  AFRICA 136 


MY    SHIP 

AND  OTHER  VERSES 


Outward  Bound 

A  good  ship,  and  a  fair  wind, 

And  a  pal  beside  me; 
A  brave  heart,  a  clear  sky, 

And  a  star  to  guide  me, 
And  a  woman  s  kiss  as  talisman 

Whate'er  betide  me. 

A  YOUNG  land,  and  an  old  land  at  the  ends  of 

the  earth! 
(Be  still,  be  still  the  heart  o'  me  that  hears 

the  olden  call!) 
Nestling  'neath  a  golden  sky  beyond  the  seven 

seas 
The  massive  country  whispers   as  the  sunset 

shadows  fall — 
God    be   with    the    goodly    ship,    the    whipping 

friendly  breeze 

That  bears  me  as  an  orphan  to  the  faith  that 
gave  me  birth. 

17 


Outward  Bound 

The  young  faith,   and   the  old   faith,   and   the 

trust  of   a  child. 
(Be  still,  be  still  the  heart  o'  me,  the  day  is 

yet  unborn!) 
Dim   against   the  misty   clouds   the   tall   towers 

disappear, 

And  oh,  my  soul  with  memories  of  boyhood 
hours  is  torn. 

A  young  land  and  an  old  land  to  the  south  of 

the  line, 
(Be  still,  be  still  the  heart  o'  me,  a  truce  to 

all  your  fears!) 
Fair,  and  free,  and  far  away  it  lies  and  lures 

me  on 
Yet  I  but  go  in  answer  to  the  whisper  of  the 

years; 
Go  and  leave  behind  me,  ah,  so  pale  it  is  and 

wan — 

The  dream  I  dreamed  in  bygone  days  before 
the  world  was  mine. 

A  good  ship,  and  a  fair  wind, 
And  a  pal  beside  me; 
18 


Outward  Bound 

A  brave  heart,  a  clear  sky, 
And  a  star  to  guide  me, 

And  a  woman's  kiss  as  talisman 
Whateer  betide  me! 


The  Slave 

THERE  once  was  a  lad  in  the  long  ago 
And  he  lived  by  the  open  whispering  sea, 

And  daytime  found  him  gazing  out 

Where  the  shimmering  sails  flashed  fair  and 
free, 

And  night  time  brought  him  golden  dreams 
That  filled  his  heart  with  ecstasy. 

Each  morning  'midst  the  fisher  nets 
He  heard  the  bronzed  sea-men  tell 

Of  luring  lands  and  silver  skies 

And   olden  ships.     They   loved   to  dwell 

On  dangers  passed,  to  see  his  eyes 
Go  wide  beneath  the  subtle  spell. 

He  dreamed  his  dreams  and  saw  them  grow 
Dim  and  grim,  and  grey  with  age,  .  .  . 

A  city  bank,   behind   a  grille, 

His  weary  pen  toiled  o'er  the  page 
20 


The  Slave 

Day  in,  day  out.     His  heart  grew  tired 
Behind   the  brass-barred   grinning  cage. 

And  then  it  came  that  he  had  power 
To  wander  wide  to  other  lands, 

To  live  the  olden  dreams  once  dreamed, 
To  steer  his  ship  for  far-off  strands, 

To  greet  the  moonlight  and  the  stars, 
And  grasp  the  dawn  within  his  hands. 

And  fair  the  day  his  boat  embarked, 
And  fair  the  bosom  of  the  sea, 

And  fair  the  dream   that  sang  and  smiled, 
But  in  his  heart  no  answering  glee, 

For  the  years  had  branded  him  a  slave 
And  never  more  could  he  be  free. 


21 


"My  Lips  Would  Sing- 

MY  lips  would  sing  a  song  for  you,  a  soulful 

little  song  for  you, 

A  plaintive  little  song  for  you,  upon  a  sum 
mer's  day; 
But  for  the  very  life  of  me,  the  merry,  merry 

life  of  me, 

The  laughter-loving  life  of  me,  I  cannot  but 
be  gay. 

For  oh,  the  sun  is  shining,  Dear,  and  who  could 

be  repining,   Dear, 
And  who  would  be  unhappy,  Dear,  when  all 

the  world  is  young? 

So  I  will  hum  a  melody,  a  mirthful  little  melody, 
A   joyous   little   melody   that   never   yet   was 
sung. 

And  you  shall  hear  of  Fairyland,  of  Kings  and 
Queens  of  Fairyland, 
22 


"My  Lips  Would  Sing- 

Of  men  and  maids  of  Fairyland,   and   Love 

shall  be  the  theme, 
And    straight    before    your    brimming    eyes,    a 

golden  glint  of   Paradise 
Shall  steal,  My  Dear,  to  still  your  sighs,  and 

give  you   back  your   dream. 

And  you  will  taste  of  happiness,  a  tiny  bit  of 

happiness, 
A  wistful  bit  of  happiness,  upon  a  summer's 

day; 
And  just  a  little  smile  from  you,  a  sunny  little 

smile  from  you, 

A  trembly  little  smile  from  you  shall  be  a 
poet's  pay! 


Africa 

A  TEAR  in  the  soft  shy  morning, 
A  dew-drop  a  violet  spills, 

As  the  mist  comes  up  from  the  marshes 
To  fold  in  his  arms  the  hills; 

And  the  heart  of  a  dreamer  quivers 
And  leaps  with  a  thousand  thrills. 

A  gem  in  the  blaze  of  noon-time, 
In  the  drowsy  shade  of  the  trees, 

A  ruby  bright  as  a  diamond 
The  eye  of  a  maid  to  please, 

An  opal  of  wondrous  beauty— 
And  never  a  soul  that  sees. 

A  dream  in  the  dusky  evening, 

As  the  sun  sinks  low  in  the  West, 

And  the  wind  comes  over  the  palm-trees 
With  the  hint  of  a  hidden  quest, 

And  the  Southern  Cross  in  glory 
Shines  down  on  a  world  at  rest. 
24 


Africa 

And  the  tear  can  be  kissed  to  laughter 
As  a  woman  can  be  caressed; 

And  the  gem  can  be  caught  and  prisoned 
To  shine  on  a  gleaming  breast; 

But,  the  dream  is  ever  elusive 
And  therefore  the  dream  is  best. 


Light  Heart 

THERE  is  Springtime  in  the  Heavens,  and  there's 

Springtime  in  the  breeze, 
And  the  birds  are  singing  Spring  songs  in  the 

blossom-laden  trees; 
The  days  are  growing  longer,  and  there's  warmth 

in  the  air, 
And  there's  sweetness  just  in  living,  and  there's 

gladness  everywhere; 
And  yet  you  say  you're  lonely,  Lad, 
Lonely,  why? 
Isn't  the  shimmering,  shining  sun  smiling  in  the 

sky? 

Isn't  it  smiling  at  you  in  a  friendly  kind  of  way, 
Doesn't  it  look  as  if  it  wished  to  bid  you  time 

o'  day? 

Lonely,  why,  Lord  love  you, 
You're  just  blue! 

Lonely,  when  each  living  thing  wants  to  be  your 
friend, 

26 


Light  Heart 

And  God  is  in  his  Heaven; 
Lonely  when  there's  love  for  you  and  kindness 
without  end! 

Lonely,  you're  not  lonely,  Lad, 

A  little  blue,  a  little  sad. 
Come,    cheer    up,    Laddie;    cheer   up,    Son, 
There's  lots  of  pleasure,  lots  of  fun, 
Left  in  the  world  for  every  one. 


There   is  Winter  in   the  Heavens,  and  there's 

Winter  in  the  wind, 
There  is  Winter  in  the  tree-tops — but,  is  Winter 

so  unkind? 
The  days  are  growing  shorter,  and  the  nights  are 

long  and  cold, 
But,  the  stars  they  shine  much  brighter,  and  they 

wink  and  twinkle  gold; 
And  you  again  are  lonely,  Lad, 
Lonely,  why? 

Isn't  every  snow-flake  in  the  sullen,  silent  sky 
A  little  pearly  tear-drop  from  an  angel,  come  to 
bless, 

27 


Light  Heart 

To  lay  itself  against  your  cheek  in  gentle,  soft 

caress  ? 

Lonely,  why,  God  bless  you, 
You're  just  blue! 

Lonely,  when   the   crackling   frost   brings  glad 
ness  to  the  ear, 
And  God  is  in  his  Heaven; 
Lonely,  when  about  you  you  can  feel  King  Win 
ter  near; 

Lonely,  you're  not  lonely,  Lad, 
A  little  blue,  a  little  sad. 
Go,  dry  your  tears,  be  happy,  Son, 
There's  lots  of  pleasure,  lots  of  fun, 
Left  in  the  world  for  every  one! 


28 


My  Ship 

MY  ship  is  an  old  ship  and  her  sails  are  grey 

and   torn, 
And  in  the  dim  and  misty  night  she  seems  a 

thing  forlorn; 
Her  battered  sides  are  beetle  black,  her  decks  are 

scarred  and  old, 
And  heavy  rise  the  musty  scents  from  out  her 

crumbling  hold. 

The  young  ships  in  the  tide-way  with  a  sneering 

smile  sail  by, 
And  fair  they  flash  their  white  sails  against  the 

sun-drenched  sky, 
And  fleet  they  run  before  the  clouds  that  usher 

in  a  blow, 
But  could  a  storm  coerce  my  ship  whene'er  she 

wished  to  go ! 

My  ship  is  an  old  ship  and  her  sails  are  torn 
and  grey, 

29 


My  Ship 

And  she's  not  white  and  beautiful,  nor  fragile 

such  as  they, 
But  she  has  sailed  o'er  every  sea  to  every  land 

a-gleam, 
And  on  her  decks  make  merry  now  the  wraiths 

of  youthful  dream! 


Lullaby 

OH,  honey,  li'l  honey,  come  an'  lay  yo'  woolly 

head, 
Upon  yo'  mammy's  bosom,  play  at  possum  bein' 

dead, 
Fo'  a  li'l  babe  am  sleepy,  an'  it's  time  to  go  to 

bed, 

So,  come,  ma  li'l  baby,  ma  li'l  lovin'  baby, 
An'  sleep  ma  li'l  baby, 
Sleepy,  sleepy,  sleep. 

Don't  yo'  cry  yo'  li'l  eyes  out,  sho'  de  summer  day 

am  done, 
An'  de  flowers  am  gone  a  bye-bye  wit'  de  great 

big  yellow  sun, 
An'  de  stars  am  all  a-peepin'  fo'  to  ketch  him 

on  de  run, 

But  yo'  must  sleep,  ma  baby,  ma  li'l  lovin'  baby; 
Ah,  sleep  ma  li'l  baby, 
Sleepy,  sleepy,  sleep. 
31 


Lullaby 

Ah,  hush,  ma  pickaninny,  sho'  yo's  mammy's  li'l 

prize, 
But  de  san'  man  am  a-comin'  fo'  to  close  a  baby's 

eyes, 
An'  de  angels  all  am  creepin'  fro'  de  splendour 

ob  de  skies 

To  guard  a  li'l  baby,  ma  li'l  lovin'  baby; 
So  sleep,  ma  li'l  baby, 
Sleepy,  sleepy,  sleep. 


The  Treasure  Seekers 

PAL  o'  Mine,  oh,  Pal  o'  Mine,  or  ever  the  dream" 

can  die, 
Follow  me  over  the  shining  sea,   west  of   the 

sunset  sky, 
West  of  the  sunset  sky  and  the  moon,  south  of 

the  milky  way, 
North  of  the  land  where  the  dead  dreams  droop, 

east  of  the  breaking  day; 
Laugh  again  with  your  old-time  laugh,  and  sing 

me  an  olden  song, 
That  we  may  be  happy  again,  old  man,  though 

the  arm  of  the  sorrow  be  long. 

Slip  the  line,  and  break  the  sail,  and  whistle  the 

friendly  wind, 
Wind  with   the  scent  of   the   Southland's  lips, 

sweeping  to  greet  and  find, 
Bringing  us  back  the  dreams  we  dreamed — (We 

were  but  lads  so  high, 
33 


The  Treasure  Seekers 

You   always  said   that   they   would   come   true, 

laughed  when   I  would  deny.) 
Bringing  back  to  our  lonely  hearts,  and  we  are 

now  old,  so  old, 
The  tales  that  we  loved  of  the  Spanish  Main, 

and  the  lure  of  the  buccaneer's  gold. 

Lure  of  gold,  and  lure  of  lands,  and  lure  of  the 

Southern  Sea — 
What  is  the  guerdon  we  both  must  pay,  what 

is  the  toll  to  be? 
Never  a  price  if  down  in  our  hearts  lingers  the 

old-time  thrill, 
Faith  of  the  boy  in  the  power  o'  dream — faith 

that  is  with  us  still; 
Seeking  the  gold  we  will  find  the  dream,  and 

seeking  the  dream — the  gold, 
For  that  is  the  way  that  we  said   'twould  be, 

when  we  knew  we  could  never  grow  old ! 


34 


The  Visitor 

THE  long  June  day  we  waited,  a  prayer  in  our 
hearts, 

And  our  voices  still  as  a  summer  stream 
That  glides  through  the  tree-hung  places 

In  the  hush  of  a  noontime  dream. 

The  small  white  form  that  tossed  on  the  bed  in 

its  pain  .  .  . 
And  the  dumb-eyed  mother  that  watched  as 

we, 

Who  gazed  with  a  hopeless  horror 
Begotten  of  misery.  .  .  . 

And   then   that   night,   a  presence,   unseen,   un 
heard 

To    the    room    came    gliding.  .  .  .  One    an 
guished  cry  ... 

And  a  rose  on  the  bramble  withered 
And  a  star  fell  in  the  sky. 
35 


Visions 

I  never  watch  the  sun  set  a-down  the  Western 
skies 

But  that  within  its  wondernesx  I  see  my  moth 
ers'  eyes; 

I  never  hear  the  west  wind  sob  softly  in  the 
trees 

But  that  there  comes  her  broken  call  far  o'er 
the  distant  seas; 

And  never  shine  the  dim  stars  but  that  my  heart 
would  go 

Away  and  back  to  olden  lands  and  dreams  of 
long  ago. 

A  ROVER  of  the  wide  world,  when  yet  my  heart 

was  young, 
The  sea  came  whispering  to  me  in  well-beloved 

tongue, 
And  oh!  the  promises  she  held  of  golden  lands 

a-gleam 

36 


Visions 

That  clung  about  my  boy-heart  and  filled  mine 

eyes  with  dream, 
And  Wanderlust  came  luring  me  till  'neath  the 

stars  I  swore 
That  I  would  be  a  wanderer  for  ever,  ever  more. 

A  rover  of  the  wide  world,  I've  seen  the  North 
ern  lights 

A-flashing  countless  colours  in  the  knife-cold 
wintry  nights; 

I've  watched  the  Southern  Cross  ablaze  o'er 
smiling,  sunny  lands, 

And  seen  the  lazy  sea  caress  palm-sheltered,  sil 
ver  sands; 

Still  wild  unrest  is  scourging  me,  the  Wander 
lust  of  yore, 

And  I  must  be  a  wanderer  for  ever,  ever  more. 

And  yet,  I  see  the  sun  set  a-down  the  Western 
skies 

And  glimpse  within  the  wonderness  my  moth 
er's  pleading  eyes; 
37 


Visions 

And  yet  I  hear  the  west  wind  sob  softly  in  the 

trees 
That  vainly  cloak  her  broken  call  far  o'er  the 

distant  seas; 
And  still  when  shine  the  dim  stars  my  wander 

heart  would   go 
Away  and  back  to  her  side,  and  dreams  of  long 

ago. 


A  Broken  Song 

HE  was  such  a  little  song, 
But  the  April  days  were  long, 
And  he  thought  he  could  entwine 
a  woman's  heart; 


So  he  went  his  lilting  way 
All  upon  a  sunny  day, 
And  he  laughed  to  see  the  winter 
cold  depart. 


To  a  winsome  maid  he  came 
And  he  gently  hummed  her  name 
And  his  music  was  the  wind  across 

the  sea; 

But  her  heart,  alas,  was  stone, 
So  he  wandered  back  alone, 

And  brokenly  he  told  his  tale  to  me. 
39 


A  Broken  Song 

Aye,  the  summer  sky  is  blue, 
And  the  days  are  fair  to  you 

And  me  who've  seen  so  many  sadly 

roll; 

But  the  whole  wide  world  is  wrong, 
To  a  little,  lonely  song 

That  is  sobbing,  oh,  so  softly  in  my 
soul. 


40 


An  Arabian  Incident 

I  MET  a  little  Arab  boy  as  naked  as  the  sky 
That   blazed    in   cloudless   grandeur  o'er   the 

street, 

A  little  chubby  Arab  child  who  passed  me  grave 
ly  by, 
Then  turned  to  watch  me,  solemnly,  discreet. 

The  stolidness  of  centuries  was  in  his  silent  gaze, 
The  ancient  pride  of  kings  within  his  blood, 

And  he  bore  himself  as  proudly  as  his  men  of 

olden  days, 
And  glance  for  glance  he  gave  me  as  we  stood. 

Then  I  ventured  to  address  him,  but  my  Arabic 

was  bad 

And  he  answered  not  at  all,  nor  made  a  sign, 
But  I  felt  the  scorn  within  his  eyes,  a  little  tubby 

lad, 

The  descendant  of  an  old  and  honoured  line. 
41 


An  Arabian  Incident 

And  so  I  turned  to  leave  him,  by  the  incident 

impressed, 

But  stopped  and  placed  a  coin  upon  my  hand, 
The  silent  speaking  language  of  the  East  and  of 

the  West, 
And  my  little  kingling  seemed  to  understand. 

He  shuffled   shyly   towards  me,   took  the  shiny 

silver  thing 

Then  ran  and  hid  himself  behind  a  wall, 
Forgetting  all  the  instincts  that  were  worthy  of 

a  king — 
A  little,  human  youngster,  after  all! 


42 


Aden 

BARREN  rock  and  rugged  grandeur 

Rising  from   the  sea, 
Mysteries  of  ancient  people 

Greet  the  soul  of  me — 
But,  I  see  in  English  faces 

Longing  for  a  tree. 

Hunger  for  the  rolling  meadows 
And  the  perfumed  loam, 

Oft  I  watch  them  unobserved — 
Wistfully  they  roam, 

In  their  eyes  dumb,  silent  longings 

And  a  prayer  for  home. 


43 


The  Old  Town 

THE  day  is  rife  with  olden  dreams 

That  deep  entwine  my  heart 
To  lure  me  back  to  olden  loves 

When  that  I  must  depart, 
A  thousand  memories  are  born 

To  cloud  and  blind  these  eyes 
That  look  to  dim  and  distant  lands — 

To  stars  in  other  skies. 

So  fair,  so  fair  the  waning  flowers, 

The  brown  October  trees, 
So  sweet,  so  dear,  the  melody 

That  ripples  on  the  breeze; 
Ah,  beautiful,  the  little  town, 

The  blue  and  smiling  sea, 
The  well-remembered  simple  things 

No  more,   no  more  to  be. 

The  songs  the  birds  each  morning  sang 
As  climbed  the  youngling  sun, 
44 


The  Old  Town 

The  silence  and  the  peacefulness 
When  the  long  day  was  done, 

And  God  himself  a-keeping  watch 
O'er  this  wee  Paradise — 

But,  Wanderlure  is  in  my  heart 
And  dream  is  in  my  eyes. 

Ah,  dream  is  in  these  eyes  of  mine 

And  wander  in  my  soul, 
And  I  must  seek  a  thousand  ways 

A  sweet  elusive  goal; 
And  I  must  live  each  luring  dream 

Till,  weary,  I  would  rest, 
And  learn  perchance  that  after  all 

The  old,  old  dreams  were  best. 


45 


Memory 

WHEN  I  was  I,  and  You  were  You, 

And  moonlit  nights  were  fair, 
The  stars  were  dimmed  before  your  eyes 

And  prisoned  in  your  hair; 
And  every  song  the  soft  winds  sang 

Dream-laden  from  the  South 
Were  but  the  music  of  your  voice, 

The  sweetness  of  your  mouth. 

The  secrets  of   the  plashing  waves 

That  only  dreamers  hear, 
Were  once  the  words  that  quivering 

You  whispered  in  my  ear; 
The  tale  you  told,  the  dearest  tale 

That  lights  a  woman's  eyes 
Who  holds  within  her  tiny  hands 

The  keys  of  paradise. 

Ah,  if  my  dream  is  but  a  dream 
As  dreams  of  mortals  are, 


Memory 

And  Faith  be  but  a  futile  thing- 
The  love  of  moth  for  star; 

Yet  who  may  chide  in  jealousy 
As  laggard  Time  plods  by 

If  still  within  my  heart  I  hold 
What  cannot  die! 


47 


The  Ballad  of  the  Hookah 

SQUATTIN'  on  the  floor  I  wuz  like  an  'ero  in  a 

story, 

Puffin'  o'  an  'ookah  pipe,  a  Sultan  at  me  side, 
S'welp  me  but  I  almost  bust  a-thinkin'  o'  the 

glory, 
Me  wot  never  wuz  a  one  much  given  unto 

pride. 

Coffee  from  a  bronzen  jug  he  poured  with  jew 
elled  fingers 

Often  filled  the  tiny  cup  I  'eld  within  me  'and, 
Talkin'  to  me  equal-like — Lor'!  'ow  the  mem 
ory  lingers 

In  me  'art  as  incense  'angs  in  that  there  furrin 
land. 

Took  the  'ookah  from  me  an*  'e  showed  me  'ow 

to  smoke  it 

Pullin'  at  it  steady  till  there  came  the  gurgle 
sound — 

48 


The  Ballad  of  the  Hookah 

"Go  it  kind   o'   gentle-like  or  otherwise  you'll 

choke  it!" 
Sez  the  Sultan  low  to  me  a-squattin'  on  the 

ground. 
Once  again  I  takes  a  drag  an'  bli'me  I  could  do 

it! 
"Bubble,  bubble,"  growled  the  pipe.     I  almost 

'owled  with  joy! 
Smokin'  like  an  'old  'and  I,  but  Lor'!  I  came 

to  rue  it 

As  is  rued  the  first  cigar  wot's  smoked  by  any 
boy. 

'Ead   a-sudden  went  a-swimmin'   an'   the   room 

went  reelin', 
Kind  o'  hasty-like  I  rose  an'  staggered  to  me 

bunk, 
Never  'ad  I  known  before,  a  queerer,  stranger 

feelin', 
Like  as  if  the  stars  an'  moon,  an'  all  the  world 

wuz  drunk! 

Crikey!     Wot  an  'ead  I  'ad  the  same  I'm  not 
forgettin', 

49 


The  Ballad  of  the  Hookah 

Lasted  me  a  week  or  two,  or  mayhap  it  wuz 

three, 
But,  when  all  is  said  an'  done,  I  never  am  re- 

grettin' 

The  time  I  smoked  an  'ookah  with  a  Prince 
in  Araby! 


Broken  Idols 

HE  was  a  youngster  of  twenty-odd  years — 

Heigh  ho  for  the  old  days — 
Never  a  sorrow,  and  never  a  care 
Lurked  in  his  heart  as  he  bounded  up-stair 
Into  his  room  with  its  bed  and  a  chair — 

Heigh  ho  for  the  old  days! 

Laughing  he  was  all  the  long  summer  hours — 

Heigh  ho  for  the  old  days. 
Heart-whole  and  happy,  and  poor  as  could  be 
Eating  his  dinner,  and  drinking  his  tea, 
Dreaming  mayhap  o'  a  girl  o'er  the  sea — 

Heigh  ho  for  the  old  days. 

Riches  he  found,  and  the  heart  o'  the  world — 

Heigh  ho  for  the  old  days. 
Heart  of  a  friend,  and  the  heart  of  a  maid, 
Bloom  of  a  rose-bud  that  never  would  fade, 
Big  was  his  love,  and  he  was  not  afraid — 

Heigh  ho  for  the  old  days. 
51 


Broken  Idols 

Big  was  his  love,  and  his  heart  without  fear — 

Heigh  ho  for  the  old  days. 
Never  suspicious,   he   never  would   send 
Thought  of  unfaithfulness  of  wife  or  of  friend, 
Aye,  but  he  knew  in  the  grim,  bitter  end — 

Heigh  ho  for  the  old  days. 

Knew  as  his  idols  around  him  crashed  down — 

Heigh  ho  for  the  old  days. 
Watched  as  his  dreams  were  swept  swiftly  away, 
Glamour  of  gold,  and  the  light  of  the  day, 
Idols  beloved,  with  their  poor  feet  of  clay— 

Heigh  ho  for  the  old  days. 

Tired  are  his  eyes,  and  it's  dim  is  their  power — 

Heigh  ho  for  the  old   days. 
Yet,  do  they  see  when  the  fire  glistens  bright, 
Softly  and  sadly,  alone  in  the  night, 
Visions  that  come  till  his  tears  blot  the  sight — 

Heigh  ho  for  the  old  days! 


Old  Songs 

THEY  come  in  the  lonely  silence 

Over  the  silver  sea, 
Haunted  with  olden  longing 

And  olden  memory, 
Sweet  with  their  madding  music 

Dear  to  the  heart  of  me. 

Millions   of   years,   or   only 
One,  and  an  endless  day! 

One!    Was  it  long  in  passing? — 
Only  the  stars  can  say; 

Only  the  sighing  breezes; 
Only  the  laughing  spray. 

Futile  the  words  and  senseless 
Lacking  the  boast  of  rhyme, 

Paltry,  mayhap,  and  trivial 
Perfect  alone  in  time — 

Songs  that  I  knew, — Ah,  Foolish- 
Loved  in  another  clime. 
53 


Old  Songs 

Haunting  they  bring  me  wistful 
Crash  of  the  grinding  cars, 

Follies  of  old  I  followed, 

Lights  that  eclipsed  the  stars, 

Poor  little  hopes  once  nurtured, 
Youth,  and  redeeming  scars. 

Blame  ye  a  poet's  fancies, 
Wraiths  of  a  dreamer  brain, 

Visions  that  cloud  the  sun-set; 
Jewels  that  gem   the  rain?— 

Sweet,  ah,  sweet  is  the  olden 
Music  that  sings  again! 


54 


A  Wish 

OH,  little  girl,  may  you  never  know 
Of  the  empty  pain  in  my  heart; 

May  you  never  guess  as  you  come  and  go, 
How  its  chords  lie  torn  apart. 

May  you  never  dream  on  a  starlit  night, 
Of  the  havoc  you  wrought  within, 

When  I  worshipped  afar,  who  had  no  right, 
And  knew  that  I  never  could  win. 

May  you  never  suffer  the  lasting  scar 
Of  a  love  which  was  not  to  be; 

May  you  always  be  happy  as  angels  are, 
And — God  have  pity  on  me! 


55 


Night  in  Kampala 

THE  sun  has  sought  the  velvet  arms  of  night 
And  gone  to  rest.    The  soft  West  wind  sighs 
by; 

The  palm-trees  quiver  in  the  waning  light ; 
One  little  star  peeps  shyly  from  the  sky. 

The  birds  have  ceased  their  galaxy  of  song 
And  stilled  is  every  tiny  feathered  throat; 

Now  flashes  bright  the  merry  starry  throng, 
And  rises  now  the  cricket's  quickening  note. 

Deep  in  the  marsh  the  bull-frog  joins  his  cries 
To  those  of  thousand  toads  that  louder  grow; 

The  hum  of  insects  rises  to  the  skies, 
And  Time  throbs  on  with  measured  beat  and 
slow. 

All  silent  in  the  town  the  gay  bazaars, 

Save  where  the  crabbed  merchants  two  or 
three 

56 


Night  in  Kampala 

Count  over  in  the  dim  light  of  the  stars 
The  profits  of  the  day  and  usury. 

Within  a  small  grass  hut  a  native  boy 

Upon  a  harp  plays  low  with  tireless  power; 

A  woman  croons  a  simple  song  of  joy, 
And  melody  and  dream  are  in  the  hour. 

The  Afric  night  steals  softly  o'er  my  soul, 
I  shut  my  eyes  and  let  my  thoughts  go  roam, 

Knowing  well  that  they  will  seek  a  cherished 

goal 
And  lead  me  back  to  long  ago — and  home! 


57 


Revelation 

THE   Unknown   lures   them   blindly   on 
And  they  come  with  a  rousing  cheer, 

To  toil  and  toil  on  a  barren  shore 
For  that  which  they  hold  most  dear, 

But  the  day  is  long, — in  a  rousing  song 
Is  hidden  many  a  tear. 

And  it's  oh,  for  the  sight  of  a  blade  of  grass, 

And  the  shade  of  a  friendly  tree, 
And  a  winding  lane  in  the  April  rain, 

And  the  country  across  the  sea; 
But   it's  ever   and   ever  the  blazing  sun 

And  the  glow  of  a  tropic  sky, 
And  the  drifting  sand  in  a  foreign  land — 

And  a  dream  that  never  can  die. 

The  Unknown  holds  a  thousand  charms 
And   calls  with  insistent  cries, 

58 


Revelation 

Till  youngsters  come  from  their  own  firesides 
To  look  with  unchallenged  eyes, 

To  give  their  youth  in  the  search  for  truth, 
And  to  find  the  truth — and  the  lies. 

And  it's  oh,  for  the  song  of  a  rippling  brook 

Through  the  woods  on  a  summer's  day, 
And  a  daisy  field  by  its  side  revealed 

And  the  perfume  of  new-mown  hay, 
Rut  it's  ever  the  rocks  of  a  barren  coast 

That  rise  to  the  Aden  sky, 
And  the  stinging  sand  in  a  foreign  land, 

And  a  dream  that  never  can  die, 
Heigh  ho! 

A  dream  that  never  can  die! 


59 


"I  Wonder- 


I  WONDER  do  you  think  of  me 
Across  the  trackless  miles  of  sea 
Within  your  land  so  very  fair 
And  sometimes  wish  that  I  was  there; 
And  oftentimes  I  wonder,  dear, 

What  you  would  do 
If  I,  when  all  the  stars  a-gleam 
Are  shining  bright,  on  wings  of  dream 

Should  come  to  you! 


60 


Wanderlust 

THEY  say  Broadway  is  pretty  when  the  lamps 

are  blazing  bright — 
Perhaps  there  is  a  glamour  o'er  it  all — 
But  I  see  not  its  beauty  when  I  roam  it  of  a 

night, 

For  in  my  soul  there  is  a  luring  call; 
A  subtle,  silent  whisper  from  the  meadow  and 

the  tree, 

Through  all  the  grinding,  crashing  of  the  cars  ; 
A  tugging  at  my  heart-strings  and  a  longing  wish 

to  flee 

The  place  where  there's  no  room  for  God- 
made  stars; 
A  craving  for  the  open  road,  a  love  for  simple 

things, 

The   scent   of   wild-grown   flow'rs   and   new- 
mown  hay; 
For  Wanderlust  is  in  me  and  I'm  praying  God 

for  wings — 

The  country  is  a-calling  in  the  May! 
61 


Kampala  of  the  Hills 

SHE  nods  beneath  the  noon-day  sun 
And  beckons  and  beguiles, 

Her  eyes  are  filled  with  merriment, 
Her   lips   are  wreathed   in   smiles; 

She  seems  to  wear  a  woman's  form, 
She  wreaks  a  woman's  wiles. 


She  nestles  in  the  seven  hills 

A  dew-drop  in  a  rose, 
And  dim  at  night  beneath  the  stars 

With  mystery  she  glows; 
But,  oh,  another  vision  glides 

Whene'er  the  West  wind  blows. 

A  quivering  gleam  of  olden  friends 
And  lands  across  the  sea, 

Of  dear  days  nigh  forgotten  now 
And  days  which  ne'er  can  be, 
62 


Kampala  of  the  Hills 

It  brings  unbidden  tears  to  eyes 
Of  wanderers  like  me. 


A  glimpse  of  home — Ah,  God  be  kind! 

Ah,  Land  of  wonder  thrills! 
My  heart  but  craves  the  Spring  again, 

The  yellow  daffodils, 
The  love  that  calls  incessantly 

Beyond  Kampala's  hills! 


The  Daisy  Field 

THERE'S  a  wealth  of  yellow  daisies  in  the  field 

beside  my  door, 

And  they  nod  and  dance  before  me  in  the  sun ; 
Such   lovely   yellow   daisies   I   have   never   seen 

before, 

And  they  seem  to  whisper,  "Come  and  join 
our  fun!" 

They  are  flinging  back  the  sunlight,   they  are 

beautiful  and  gay, 

I  would  dearly  like  to  join  them  for  a  while, 
But  of  course  it's  quite  impossible,  I'm  old  and 

turning  grey, 
And  I  nearly  have  forgotten  how  to  smile. 

And  yet  they  sway  seductively  and  flirting  with 

the  breeze, 

They  would  thrall  me  with  the  wanton  in 
their  eyes, 


The  Daisy  Field 

And  I  wish  I  were  a  little  child  to  play  again 

with  these 
And  frolic  in  a  daisy  paradise. 

I  wish  I  were  a  child  again  to  mingle  with  their 

glory, 

To  share  the  lilting  laughter  of  the  day 
With  sun-light  and  with  star-shine,  and  Life  an 

unread  story, 
And  all  my  world  a  daisy  field  in  play! 


Do  You? 

Do  you  miss  me  as  I  miss  you? — 
Tell  me,  little  Maiden,  true. 

Do  the  days  drift  slow  along 
As  a  saddened  lonely  song 
Wearied  in  a  world  of  wrong; 

Do  the  stars  shine  in  the  skies 
Drear  and  dim  with  dewy  eyes 
'Yond  the  pale  of  Paradise; 

Do  the  West  winds  whisper  low 
As  to  rest  at  night  they  go 
Memories  of  long  ago; 

Is  your  life  a  dream  devoid, 
Empty  of  all  bliss-enjoyed 
Bygone  days?     Is  Faith  destroyed? 
66 


Do  You? 

If  your  world  seems  so  to  be, 
Then  I  know  you  long  for  me 
Half  as  much  as  I  for  Thee! 

Do  you  miss  me,  tell  me  true, 
Half  as  much  as  I  miss  you? 


A  Summer  Day 

SUNSHINE  in  the  blue  sky,  and  sunshine  on  the 

sea! — 
(Glory!    What  a  fairyland!)  and  all  the  world 

is  young, 

Life  and  Love  and  laughter — a  blend  of  melody, 
And  the  smiling  heavens  answer  in  a  kindred, 

kindly  tongue. 

You  shall  be  a  Princess,  and  I  shall  be  a  King! 
Only  for  a  day,  my  Dear,  ah,  time  so  fleetly 

flies, 
But,  within  our  tired  hearts,  the  memory  will 

sing 

To  give  us  every  toiling  hour  a  gleam  of  para 
dise. 

Starlight  in  the  black  sky,  and  starshine  on  the 

sea! 

Fare  thee  well,  O  Summer  Day,  and  come  ye 
soon  again; 

68 


A  Summer  Day 

Life  and  love  and  laughter,  so  full  of  ecstasy, 
And  smiling  eyes  that  bring  a  balm  to  ease 
the  whole  world's  pain! 


East  of  Suez 

EAST  o'  Suez,  bli'me,  an'  the  sun  a-blazin'  'ot, 
Touch  o'  fever  comin'  on,  just  as  like  as  not, 
Not  a  bloomin'  'ouse-maid  in  the  'ole  un'ealthy 

land, 
Not  a  blinkin'  public-'ouse,  and  not  a  blinkin' 

band, 

Not  a  bloomin'  bit  o'  fun  the  'ole  unendin'  day 
But  toilin'  for  me  livin'  an'  a-drawin'  o'  me  pay. 
I  would  give  me  bloomin'  eyes,  'eart,  an*  'ands, 

an'  all, 
Just  to  'ear  an  ol'-time  pal  give  an  ol'-time  call : 

"  'Ullo,  wot  cheer, 

Arf  a  pint  o'  beer, 
Arf  a  pint  o'  bitter  at  the  oF  Brown  Cow? 

Drink  it  down  with  laughter, 

Sorrow   may   come   after, 
But  grin,  you  bloomin'  beggar,  for  at  least  you're 


'appy  now!' 


70 


East  of  Suez 

East  o'  Suez,  s'welp  me,  I'm  holdin'  o'  me  own, 

Reapin'  now  the  'arvest  o'  the  folly  I  'ave  sown; 

Tbinkin'  o'  the  long  ago,  an'  dreamin'  o'  the 
nights 

Spent  within  the  glitter  o'  a  million  gleamin' 
lights; 

Pinin'  for  the  drinks  I've  'ad,  an'  sighin'  o'  me 
sighs, 

Thinkin'  o'  the  star-shine  in  a  Christian  wom 
an's  eyes; 

Longin'  for  the  city  an'  the  city's  bloomin'  all, 

Longin'  for  an'  old-time  pal  with  'is  ol'-time  call : 

"  'Ullo,  wot  cheer, 

Arf  a  pint  o'  beer, 
Arf  a  pint  o'  bitter  at  the  ol'  Brown  Cow? 

Drink  it  down  with  laughter, 

Sorrow  may  come  after, 

But  grin,  you  bloomin'  beggar,  for  at  least  you're 
'appy  now!" 


Land  Hoi 

SMILING  sky  and  smiling  waters,  oh,  the  day  was 

fair. 
(Through  the  black  night  we  had  come  like 

a  hint  of  woe, 
Darkened  lights  and  battened  hatches,  murmured 

words  and  cautious  steering, 
Fearful  of  a  hidden  terror,  of  a  lurking,  un 
seen  foe.) 

Straight  before  us  like  a  jewel  flashing  in  the  sun 
Proud  she  rose  and  beckoned  us  as  we  smiled 

again, 
Smiled   and   laughed   with   lightsome   hearts   at 

danger  o'er  and  beauty  'fore  us, 
Blew   a   kiss   or   two,   mayhap,    to   greet   the 
shores  of  Spain. 

Who  of  us  but  dreamed  again  for  who  of  us  but 

saw 

Through  the  clouds,  dim,  wraith-like  castles — 
claimed   them  as  his  own — 
72 


Land  Ho! 

Of  the  days  long  gone  and  vanished  when  the 

faith  was  in  the  dreaming, 
And  a  dream  was  all  the  world  when  ne'er  the 

world  was  known — 
Glory!   There  is  little  gladness  in  the  hearts  of 

men 
Weaned  by  the  toiling  hours  and  shattered  by 

the  years — 
But,   one  moment   fair   and   fleeting  eyes  were 

oped  to  olden  wonders 

As  we  saw  our  dream  again  veiled  in  misty 
tears. 


73 


Spring  Night 

THE  wind  among  the  tree-tops  and  the  moon 
upon  the  sea; 

The  splash  of  restless  waves  across  the  sands; 
The  whisper  of  the  ocean  alive  with  luring  plea 

A-mingling  with  the  sighs  of  other  lands. 

The  silence  of  the  heavens,  and  the  glory  of  the 

stars  ; 

The  heavy  scent  of  flowers  and  grassy  sod ; 
The  soul  within  me  bursting  the  mortal  prison 

bars 
To  greet  the  awful  majesty  of  God! 


74 


In  the  Toils 

THERE'S  wormwood  in  the  heart  o'  me,  there's 

cobweb  'round  my  soul, 
My  eyes  are  filled  with  longing  to  be  free, 
I'm  dreaming  of  the  mountains  where  the  mighty 

rivers  roll, 

And  crash  o'er  crag  and  cranny  to  the  sea. 
I  am  stifling  in  the  city  where  the  best  is  but  a 

lie, 
Where  men  can   think  of   nothing  else   but 

gold — 
Where  lives  are  crushed  and  broken,   and  the 

weary  long  to  die, 
And  clamour  for  the  birth-right  they  have  sold. 

High    buildings    are    around    me,    and    they're 

crowding  me  to  death, 

The  streets  are  bright  with  futile,  fatal  flare, 
And  many  folks  seem  happy,  but  I  cannot  draw 
a  breath — 

75 


In  the  Toils 

And    all    those    smiles    are    masks    to    cover 

care. 
For  lonely,  lonely  faces  pass  me  by  'most  every 

day, 

And  every  one  so  vainly  tries  to  smile, 
But  down  within  the  hearts  o'  them  there's  sor 
row  all  the  way, 
There's  hatred  of  the  city  and  its  guile. 


Or  perhaps  it  is  a  longing  for  the  manhood  they 

have  lost, 

The  memory  of  the  men  they  used  to  be, 
Ere  came  the  city  craving,   and   they  reckoned 

not  the  cost, 

But  cast  their  bread  upon  the  purple  sea. 
I  often  want  to  go  to  them  and  take  them  by 

the  hand — 

They  seem  so  very,  very  much  alone — 
Just  gaze  into  their  lonely  eyes  and  say  I   un 
derstand, 
And  prove  that  every  heart  is  not  of  stone. 


In  the  Toils 

But  such  things  must  not  happen;  in  the  city 

you  pass  by 

Each  one  whom  you  have  never  met  before, 
Yet  every  one  is  friendly  where  the  mountains 

kiss  the  sky, 

And  every  one  is  clean  white  to  the  core. 
I'm  sick  of  all  the  city,  where  convention  plays 

its  part, 

I'm  dreaming  of  the  mountains  by  the  sea — 
For  cobweb's  'round  the  soul  of  me  and  sorrow's 

in  my  heart, 
I'm  longing  and  I'm  praying  to  be  free! 


77 


Joy  o'  Life 

HAVE  you  ever  dreamed,  as  I  have  dreamed, 

O'  the  will-o'-the-wisp  o'  fame — 
Have  you  fought  and  sought,  as  I  have  done, 

And  found  it  an  empty  name? 
Have  you  hoped  with  hope,  as  I  have  hoped, 

Till  your  heart  was  wet  with   tears, 
And  found,  as  I,  that  sorrows  abound, 

In  the  long,  loag  line  o'  years? 
Have  you  tried  and  failed,  as  once  I  failed — 

Have  you  conquered  at  last,  to  smile? 
If  so,  you'll  learn,  as  I  have  learned, 

That  the  game,  after  all,  's  worth  while; 
And  some  day  you'll  know,  as  I,  too,  know, 

That  spite  the  sorrow  and  pain, 
The  heart-worn  strife,  the  toil  o'  life — 

You'd  live  it  all  over  again! 


Music  Magic 

Perhaps  there  is  no  magic  in  this  dull,  old  world 

of  ours; 
Perhaps   there   are   no   Fairy    Tales   to   gladden 

heart-break  hours; 
Perhaps  there  is  no  beauty,  and  perhaps  all  things 

are  wrong; 
But  still  there  is  the  wonder  of  a  little,  old-time 

song! 

A  SQUEAKING  and  battered  old  organ,  rattling  a 

moss-covered  tune, 
Stood  in  the  street  of  the  city,  there,  in  the  heat 

of  the  noon; 
Banging  of  roses  and  sunshine,  thrilling  of  lands 

far  away, 
Whispering  songs  of  my  childhood — sorrowful, 

simple  and  gay; 
I   was  a  child   for  the  moment,   filled  with   a 

child's  petty   fears, 
Dreaming,  and  dreaming,  and  dreaming,  never 

a  thought  of  the  tears. 
79 


Music  Magic 

Then,  as  the  music  was  softened,  singing  of  love 

and  of  life, 
Brought  it  back  thoughts  of  the  old  days,  far 

from  the  toil  and  the  strife, 
Glimmer  of  gold  in  the  star-light,  shimmer  of 

silk  by  the  sea; 
Words  that  were  whispered,  half-spoken,  dreams 

that  were  never  to  be. 
Sweet  intermingled  with  sadness,  what  is  as  dear 

as  the  past? 
Is  there  a  day  in  the  future  that  is  as  fair  as  the 

last? 
Music,  oh,  music,  the  master,  there  in  the  heat 

of  the  noon, 
A  squeaking  and  battered  old  organ,  rattling  a 

moss-covered  tune, 
Carried  me  back  in  my  dreaming,   far,   to  the 

long,  long  ago; 
Feeling  'way  down  in  my  heart-chords  hope  I 

thought  never  could  glow; 
Brought  to  me  who  was  a  failure,  beaten  and 

crossed  in  the  fight, 
80 


Music  Magic 

Help  in  the  hour  of  the  darkness — pointed  the 
way  to  the  light. 


Perhaps  there  is  no  magic  in  this  dull,  old  world 

of  ours; 
Perhaps   there   are    no   Fairy    Tales   to   gladden 

heart-break  hours; 
Perhaps  there  is  no  beauty,  and  perhaps  all  things 

are  wrong; 
But  still  there  is  the  wonder  of  a  little,  old-time 

song! 


81 


Dreams 

IF  you  can  fight,  as  I  must  fight, 

The  daily  grinding  toil; 
Then  you  will  know  the  after-glow, 

The  peace  from  out  the  moil. 

If  you  are  loved,  as  I  am  loved, 

The  earth's  a  Paradise; 
And  you  will  play  the  game  alway, 

Nor  care  to  win  the  prize. 

If  you  can  hope,  as  I  may  hope, 
With  faith  that  still  endures, 

Then  you  will  win,  through  all  the  sin — 
The  world  itself  is  yours. 

And  you  will  dream,  as  I  can  dream, 

And    dreams   are    fairer   far 
Than  love,  and  gold,  and  earth  so  old, 

Or  other  things  that  are! 
82 


An  Invitation 

AH,  fly  with  me  to  happiness,  through  the  heart 

of   the  merry  May, 
And  follow  me  down  the  friendly  road  that  lies 

at  the  end  o'  day, 
And  sing  with  me  a  simple  tune  in  a  mystical, 

magic  tongue, 
For  then  we  will  come  to  Tir-na-noge,  if  only 

our  hearts  are  young. 


If  but  our  hearts  are  young,  my  dear,  and  our 

lips  are  alive  for  song, 
We'll  give  not  a  sigh  for  this  world's  woe,  but 

laugh  at  it  all  night  long, 
And  o'er  the  road  with  flying  feet  to  the  portals 

of  Fairyland, 
We  will  travel,  Asthore,  with  the  gentle  moon, 

and  the  stars  that  go  hand-in-hand. 

83 


An  Invitation 

And  there,  a  queen  of  Tir-na-nogc,  to  her  with 

a  queen's  caress, 
Will  take  us,   my  dear,  within  her  arms,   and 

softly  our  pain  will  bless; 
And  we  will  find  the  prize  we  seek   (Ah,  the 

laugh  of  a  little  child!) 
But  we  must  be  young,  so  young,  my  dear,  in 

our  hearts  that  are  beating  wild. 

And  oh,  our  lips  must  mark  a  song,  a  lullaby 

sweet  and  low, 
to  waken  the  heart  of  a  wee,  wee  babe  of  the 

ever  so  long  ago, 
To  ope  his  eyes  in  Fairyland  to  the  love  that  he 

long  has  flown 
And  cuddle  himself  against  our  hearts  that  will 

know  him  again — their  own. 

So  come  with  me  to   Tir-na-noge,  through  the 

heart  of  the  merry  May, 
And  follow  me  down  the  friendly  road  that  lies 

at  the  end  o'  day, 


An  Invitation 

And  sing  with  me  a  simple  tune  in  a  mystical, 

magic  tongue, 
For  then  we  will  win  to  happiness,  if  only  our 

hearts  are  young! 


85 


Gethsemane 

BREATHES  there  a  man  who  claimeth  not 
One  lonely  spot, 

His  own  Gethsemane, 
Whither  with  his  inmost  pain 
He  fain 

Would  weary  plod, 
Find  the  surcease  that  is  known 
In  wind  a-moan 

And  sobbing  sea, 
Cry  his  sorrow  hid  of  men 
And   then — 

Touch  hands  with  God. 


86 


Sunset  in  Egypt 

SILENCE,  and  a  sense  of  loneliness,  and  a  longing 

for  a  friend; 
The  low  gaunt  plains  of  the  desert  rolling  to 

the  hills, 

The  hills  of  Egypt,  west  of  the  world's  end, 
And  a  wonder  that  thrills  and  thrills. 


Grim  the  mountains  grand,  imperious,  proud, 
They  marked  the  ribbed  sky,  grey  and  brown 

and  blue 
With  rugged  thrust  that  pierced  a  sun-splashed 

cloud, 

As  with  a  sudden  splendour  ever  new 
The  diamond  of  the  day  drooped  a  ruby  in  the 

far  away, 

And  sank  beyond  the  low  grey  slaty  sky. 
And  then  as  though  there  crept  a  sudden  dawn, 
Yellow  and  saffron,  crimson,  gold  and  green 


Sunset  in  Egypt 

The   great   wild   clouds   with   new-found   light 

flashed  out 
Range  on  range  in  utter  rout, 

As  though  obedient  to  a  touch  unseen, 
As  though  in  homage  to  a  nod  .  .  . 
Silence,  and  a  feeling  of  awe,  and  the  pres 
ence  of  God. 


Then   suddenly   a   low  mysterious  sound 

From  out  the  ground, 

The  pattering  of  fairy  feet  across  a  fairy  dell, 

The  sweet,  recurrent  tinkling  of  a  laughing  sil 
ver  bell, 

The  murmur  in  the  woodlands  of  a  drowsy  sum 
mer  stream, 

The  whisper  of  a  woman's  voice  upon  the  wings 
of  dream — 

The  night  wind  of  the  desert  in  our  ears 

Sang  and  sobbed,  and  through  unbidden  tears 

Each  saw  his  dream  again  of  all  the  years. 

Each  saw  and  dreamed  and  prayed,  with   fear 
and  unafraid — 

88 


Sunset  in  Egypt 

And  slowly  rose  the  moon,  the  crescent  moon, 
To  lend  new  charms  and  hint  of  Paradise 

That  yet  would  vanish  soon  .  .  . 

I  heard  a  strong  man  breathing  in  the  dark, 
And  one  who  mutter'd  that  all  faith  was  lies, 

And  yet  a  woman  came  to  me  and  smiled 
With  the  glory  of  the  sunset  in  her  eyes! 


Desolation 

How  we  yearned  for  Spring,  dear — you  and  I, 
The  winter  seemed  so  weary- weighted,  long; 

Each  day  we  watched  the  saddened  sky- 
Each  day  we  prayed  for  one  red  robin's  song. 

And  then  at  last  bloomed  Spring,  but — you  and  I 
Had  gone  our  different  ways  for  e'er  to  part ; 

And  now  though  summer  hours  are  nigh, 
There's  winter,  bitter  winter  in  my  heart. 


90 


The  Nation 

I   DREAMED  of  a  mighty  nation,   peopled  with 

millions  of  men, 
Flying  their  banner  of  freedom — hope  in  their 

hearts  again; 
Living  the  lives  of  the  fearless,  living  the  lives 

of   the  free; 
Rising  and  ever  rising,  as  the  restless  tides  of 

the  sea. 
I  saw  them  shake  off  the  shackles  that  fettered 

them  long  ago, 
Ere   they   sought  in   the  golden  Westland   the 

peace  that  the  East  can't  know. 
I  heard  them  singing  of  freedom,  I  heard  them 

singing  of  love; 
And  the  song  of   their  glad  rejoicings  rose  to 

the  Heavens  above; 
And  every  man  was  a  brother,  and  every  man 

was  a  friend, 


The  Nation 

And  Heaven  was  all  around  them,  and  Heaven 

would    never   end. 
But  then,  there  came  in  my  dreaming,  something 

which   changed   it  all, 
Something  which  caused  that  freedom  to  totter 

and  slowly  fall, 
Something  above  that  singing  which  rose  to  the 

purple  sky — 

The  voices  of  little  children  raised   in  a  deso 
late  cry. 
I  saw  then  a  world  of  toilers,  struggling  as  ever 

of  old, 
Fighting  and  scrambling,  a-praying  for  glittering 

dirt  called  gold, 
And  the  strong  ones  preyed  on  the  weak  ones, 

and  the  weak  ones  cried  for  death; 
And  the  land  they  had  loved  and  longed  for,  they 

cursed  with  their  dying  breath! 

I  dreamed  of  a  fearless  nation  from  the  East  to 

the  Western  waves — 
And  then  I  awoke  from  my  dreaming  to  find  it 

a  land  of  slaves! 

92 


The  Roadhouse 

INTO  an  Inn  beside  the  Old  Post  Road 
Beloved  by  me  in  days  of  headlong  youth, 

When  life  was  sweet  and  laughter  lightly  flowed, 
I  entered  with  the  naked  eyes  of  truth. 

Unchanged!     It  seemed   as   'twere  but  yester 
night 

That  I  had  bade  the  madcap  scene  farewell; 
The  same  wild  crash  of  song,  the  blaze  of  light, 

And  Folly  there  with  her  old  luring  spell. 

And  yet  so  changed;  or  was  it  I  grown  old 
To  thrill  no  more  to  joys  of  youth  a-gleam; 

Ah,  dear  dim  days  agone — the  world  is  cold 
To    him    who   stands    within    the    husks    of 
dream ! 


93 


Kinship 

HAVE  you  gone,  as  I've  gone,  in  the  hours  of 

your  pain, 

To  the  sea  where  the  ships  glitter  by? 
Have  you  stood,  as  I've  stood,  in  the  withering 

rain, 

When  your  heart  was  too  broken  to  cry? 
Have  you  watched,  as  I've  watched,  every  ves 
sel  grow  small 

In  the  East  where  the  sky  clambers  down? 
Then  you've  felt,  as  I've  felt,  a  great  pity  for  all 

Who  are  locked  in  the  grip  of  the  town; 
And  you  will,  when  you  win  to  a  wealth  uncon- 

fined, 

And  you  sail  for  far  lands  over-sea, 
Pause  a  moment  to  think  of  us  still  left  behind, 

And  you'll  breathe  a  wee  blessing  for  me. 
So  that  when  I  go  down  to  the  sea  and  look  out 

To  the  land  where  my  fondest  dreams  lie, 
I  can  hail  you  my  kinsman  in  one  silent  shout 
And  know  you  will  answer  my  cry. 
94 


A  Passing  Prayer 

THE  sea  is  blue  to-day 

As  never   'twas  before, 
Soft  green   the  crowning  trees 

O'er  top   the  sunny  shore, 
And  all  the  world  is  good — 

And  I  am  twenty-four. 
Oh,  God,  when  I  am  old, 

And   all  my  world  is  grey, 
And  my  poor  heart  is  tired, 

My  eyes  too  dim  for  play, 
Give  back   in   dreams   to   me 

The  memory  of  to-day! 


95 


Surcease 

A  LONG  road,  and  a  fair  road, 

And  a  starlit  night  in  June; 
With  an  old  black  pipe  for  comfort, 

And  a  dream  with  my  heart  attune; 
With  a  tried,  true  friend  beside  me 

I  will  tramp  till  the  dream  is  done, 
And  my  cares  like  the  leaves  in  Autumn 

Will  drop  from  me,  one  by  one ; 
And  my  soul  from  its  slough  of  sorrow 

Will  rise  with  a  faith  new-born, 
To  linger  a  while  with  laughter 

Or  ever   is  come   the   morn! 


The  Promise 

BELOVED,  when  I  am  dead, 

And  o'er  the  unknown  road  have  wound  my 

way 
A-down  the  sunset-coloured  clouds, 

Beyond  the  day, 

You  will  at  eventide — 

The  confidential  hour  we  loved  of  old, 
Cry  out  to  me  above  the  distant  stars 

That  twinkle  gold. 

Cry  out,  and  heed  my  cry, 

Till  all  the  slumb'ring  heavens  vast  awake 
To  marvel  at  a  tryst  so  kept 

For  old  sake's  sake. 


97 


Killowen 

SURE,  it  is  a  mighty  city,  an*  the  sights  are  sim 
ply  grand, 
An'    the  people   here   are   pleasant  spoke   an' 

kind; 
But,   I'm   thinkin'  o'  Killowen,   in   that  lovely, 

lonely  land 

That  so  many  years  ago  I  left  behind. 
'Tis  a  little  tiny  village  in  the  mountains  by  the 

sea, 

Half  hidden  like  a  bee  within  a  bud, 
But,  Glory!  What  a  wonderland  of  beach,  and 

field,   and   tree, 
And  it's  back  there  I'd  be  goin5  if  I  c'u'd. 

'Tis  not  grand  like  its  proud  neighbours  on  the 

left  and  on  the  right, 
An'  very  few  have  heard  of  it  at  all ; 
But,  Killowen  is  imbedded  in  my  heart  each  day 
and  night, 

98 


Killowen 

An'  it's  I  can  ever  hear  her  gently  call. 
When  the  sad  East  wind  is  whinin'  by  the  build- 

in's  over  here, 
An'  the  streets  are  softly  drenched  in  silver 

rain, 
I  know  Killowen's  cryin'  for  the  ones  she  loved 

so  dear, 
An'  I  wish  that  all  her  tears  were  not  in  vain. 

For  Killowen,  fair  Killowen,  sure  it's  heavy  is 

my  heart, 

An'  my  soul  is  sunk  in  sorrow  every  day, 
An'  I'm  weary  that  I  ever  had  the  mad,  wild 

wish  to  part — 

But  what's  the  good  of  sorrow? — I'm  away. 
Away  from  all  the  friendly  folk,  the  fields  of 

perfumed   loam, 

The  mountains,  and  the  golden  gorse-clad  hill  ; 
Killowen's  far,  too  far,  away;  I  never  can  go 

home — 
An'  yet  I  love  to  think — some  day  I  will! 


99 


Castles  in  the  Air 

WE  have  builded  o'er  and  o'er 

Castles  in   the  air. 
Tenderly  with   loving  lore, 
We  have  watched  each  turret  soar 

High  o'er  hills  of  care. 

We  have  seen  them  crashing  fall 

(Ah,    that   dreams   are    frail!) 
Down  the  mighty  turrets  tall, 
Battlements,  and  spires,  and  all; 
When  our  hopes  were  pale. 

We  have  railed  at  sorrow's  crown — 

Weary  in  our  pain — 
As  our  dreams  went  rushing  down; 
But  we  smile  beneath  the  frown— 

We  can  build  again. 


100 


The  Healer 

I  WILL  go  down  to  the  sea,  and  the  hills,  and  the 

kindly  wind; 

Battered  and  sick  in  heart  and  body  and  soul ; 
And  the  seat  to  her  bosom  will  take  me,  massive 

and  kind, 

Banish   my  sorrow    and    make   me   well   and 
whole. 

Ah,  the  pain  I  have  suffered,  the  loneliness  fruit 

of  pain; 
Shattered  the  dream  and  dead  the  love  in  my 

heart. 
I  will  mingle  my  tears  with  the  wind.      The 

whimpering  rain 

Answer  will  cry;  and  the  burden  of  hate  de 
part. 

In  the  dawn  of  the  day  when  the  hills  are  dif 
fused  with  gold, 
Sparkling  the  sky,  the  sunshine  luringly  young, 

101 


The  Healer 

I  will  go  and  be  laved  of  my  pain  and  the  sor 
row  of  old, 

Hearkening  sea-wards  the  song  in  the  well- 
loved  tongue. 

I  will  come  from   the  sea,   and   the  hills,   and 

the   kindly  wind, 
Proud  in  my  faith,  and  strong  for  work  or 

for  play; 
And   the  hurt   that  was  powerful  will   vanish, 

cringing  and  blind; 

Laughing  I'll  scoff  at  the  torment  that  drove 
me  'way. 


102 


Dinny's  Boy 

"MAYBE  I  spoils  him,"  says  Dinny  to  me, 

"Maybe,  but,   I  love  him  so; 
I'm  all  he  has  in  this  whole  world,  you  see, 

I,  an'  I'll  soon  have  to  go. 

"Little  gossoon  with  a  merry  blue  eye, 

Laughin'   and  singin'  all  day — 
Friends  whom  I  have,  will  they  hark  to  his  cry 

When  I  have  gone  far  away? 

"Will  they  be  near  to  him,  will  they  be  dear; 

Will  they  e'er  listen  at  all? 
When  he  is  lonely  and  finds  the  earth  drear, 

Who  will  go  answer  his  call? 

"When  I  am  dead,  who  will  care  for  him  then? 

Who  will  be  good  to  the  lad? 
Mem'ry  is  weak  in  the  best  of  us  men, 

No  one  will  love  like  his  dad. 
103 


Dinny's  Boy 

"He  shall  be  happy  as  long  as  I  live, 

I  who  am  ageing  and  wan; 
All  that  I  own  to  him  gladly  I  give — 

For  who  will  be  kind  when  I'm  gone?" 


104 


Port  Said 

A  BIT  of  the  East,  and  a  bit  of  the  West, 

At  the  end  of  the  world's  end, 
And  a  bit  of  the  worst,  and  a  bit  of  the  best, 
And  a  bit  of  a  dream,  and  the  hint  of  a  quest, 
And  misery  and  sorrow  in  merriment  dressed — 

At  the  end  of  the  world's  end. 

And  this  I  had  dreamed,  in  the  halcyon  days, 

Of  the  end  of  the  world's  end; 
And  this  was  mine  own. — In  the  tortuous  ways 
Flowed  the  colours  of  life,  but  the  drabs  and 

the  greys 
Were  drowned  in  the  crimsons  and  lost  in  their 

maze 
At  the  end  of  the  world's  end. 

And  only  the  good  and  the  greatness  was  there — 

At  the  end  of  the  world's  end, 
And  the  perfume  of  incense  was  sweet  in  the  air, 
105 


Port  Said 

The  smile  of  a  woman,  the  rose  in  her  hair- 
But  far  off  I  heard  a  low  cry  of  despair, 
A  wee,  little,  choked  little,  cry  of  despair- 
At  the  end  of  the  world's  end. 


106 


Enslaved 

Over  the  sea  a  whisper,  tremulous,  soft  and  low, 
Calling,  and  calling,  and  calling,  whenever  the 

south  winds  blow — 
But  I  am  tied  by  a  thousand  ties  that  will  not 

let  me  go. 

YOUNG,  so  young,  are  the  years  of  me,  but  old, 

so  old  my  heart, 
And  deep  the  grief  of  an  ancient  woe,  and  the 

pain  of  an  ancient  smart, 
As  the  stately  ships  of  the  seven  seas  to  the  ends 

of  the  earth  depart. 

I  was  the  thrall  of  beauty.     God,  for  the  glint 

of  sea! — 
Bright  in  the  languorous  sunshine — and  green  in 

the  vessel's  lee, 
Or  gold  and   grey   in    the   dawning  sun — that 

slaved  the  heart  of  me. 
107 


Enslaved 

Long  ago  in  the  lap  of  her,  when  all  the  world 

was  young, 
And  wild  the  wind  in  the  trackless  sky  o'er  a 

fathomless  space  was  flung, 
To  the  soul  of  me  from  the  soul  of  her  she  spoke 

with   a  mother's  tongue. 


Black   as   the   cloak   of  Satan — starred  with   a 

splash  of  gold — 
Whipped   by    the   wind  in   a   midnight   blow — 

proud,  and  imperial,  cold — 
Or  sweet  her  song  in  the  lonely  night,  and  sweet 

the  tale  she  told. 


Sweet  the  song,  and  the  talc  so  sweet,  and  ever 

comes  her  cry 
From  out  the  lips  of  the  homesick  wind  in  the 

labyrinth  wastes  of  sky, 
And  my  heart  is  thrilled  with  an  olden  thrill  as 

the  dream-laden  ships  go  by. 
1 08 


Enslaved 

Ever  a  breath,  a  whisper — ever  a  cry  I  know — 
Calling,  and  calling,  and  calling,  or  murmuring 

soft  and  low — 
But  I  am  tied  by  a  thousand  ties  that  will  not  let 

me  go! 


109 


On  Bleecker  Street 

DIRTY  little  smudged  face,  and  bare  and  battered 

feet, 

Playing  in  the  sunshine,  laughing  at  the  heat, 
Light  of  heart  and  care-free,  down  on  Bleecker 

Street. 


Wonder  what  you  think,  boy,  wonder  do  you 

dream — 
Summer  in  the  country,  and  field,  and  wood,  and 

stream, 
Wind  among  the  roses,  and  stars  that  glow  and 

gleam? 

Wonder  if  the  message  that  makes  the  summer 

dear, 
Song  that  thrills  my  heart-strings  murmurs  in 

your  ear; 

If  it  came  a-wooing,  I  wonder  would  you  hear? 
no 


On  Bleecker  Street 

If  it  came  a-wooing,— Ah,  God  is  kind  and  wise, 
Would  not  wake  the  hunger  in  a  baby's  eyes, 
Till  that  heart  could  answer  the  call  of  para 
dise. 

So  you   play,   and   happy,    I   wonder   does  she 

know — 

She  who  is  your  mother  and  loves  you,  baby,  so — 
Ache  for  that  you  share  not  the  gifts  that  God 

would  show? 


Ill 


Happy  Is  He 

HAPPY  is  he  who  when  the  day  is  o'er 
Can  smile  farewell  to  the  slow  setting  sun, 

And  know  the  bliss  which  thrills  a  faithful  soul 
In  consciousness  of  work  attempted — done. 

Who  joyously  can  greet  the  glowing  stars, 
And  weary  of  the  toil,  by  labour  spent, 

Can  wend  his  way  to  peacefulness  and  home 
And  softly  cry  to  God — "I  am  content!" 


112 


Eden 

SUNSHINE  on  a  new-mown  field, 
The  perfume  ling'ring  sweet, 

Wind  among  the  trembling  trees 
With  the  noise  of  pattering  feet, 

Summertime   for  all   the  world — 
But  oh,  the  time  is  fleet. 

Gather  ye  your  rosebuds  red 
And  press  them  to  you  near, 

Fold  your  dreams  within  your  heart 
If  that  you  hold  them  dear, 

Laugh  and  love  with  wanton  joy, 
Lest  come  too  soon  the  tear. 

Sunshine  on  a  new-mown  field, 
(The  rain  beyond  the  skies,) 

Summer  song,   and  summer  day, 
And  love  in  women's  eyes  .  .  . 

Raised  to  strike  in  Winter's  hands 
The  sword  of  Paradise 


The  Journey 

WE'RE  toiling  up  an  olden  road — the  road  that 

leads  to   Fairyland, 
(Honey,  can't  you  see  that  star  pointing  out 

the  way?) 
Don't  you  think  there's  some  one  watching — 

guiding  us   to   Fairyland, 
Some  one  who  has  trudged  before  the  road 
we  trudge  to-day? 


Poppy  petals  nodding  by  the  winding  road  to 

Fairyland 
Call  to  us  so  wearied,  and  their  siren  song  is 

sleep; 
All  the  trees  are  murmuring,  "It's  very  far  to 

Fairyland, 

Very  far  and  lonely,  and  the  road  is  rough 
and  steep!" 

114 


The  Journey 

In  your  eyes  is  shining  all  the  longing  known  in 

Fairyland, 
For  the  little,  tiny  tot  who  wandered  there 

one  day. 
Let  the  road  be  wearisome,  our  love  will  win  to 

Fairyland — 

(Honey,   can't  you  hear  the  croon  of  little 
babes  at  play?) 


"Wanderer,  Wanderer,  Why  Do  You 
Stand- 

WANDERER,  Wanderer,  Why  do  you  stand,  as  the 

sun  sets  glowing? 
I'm  longing  for  my  own  land  and  the  soft  wind 

blowing. 

Wanderer,  Wanderer,  Why  do  you  gaze  with 

your  sad  eyes  dreaming? 
I'm  visioning  my  own  home  and  the  star-shine 

gleaming. 

Wanderer,  Wanderer,  Why  do  you  pause  with 

your  whole  soul  sighing? 
I'm  praying  for  my  own  Love  and  her  tired  heart 

dying. 

Wanderer,  Wanderer,  Why  do  you  weep?     Is 

the  world  all  sorrow? 
I'm  thinking  of  my  grief  to-day,  and  the  long 

to-morrow. 

116 


The  Lure 

I  HAVE  a  hungering  for  the  sea,     . 

The  smell  of  the  salt,   and  the  sting  of  the 

spray   in  my   face, 
The  song  of  the  wind  in  the  lonely  ways, 

And   the  lure  of  limitless  space; 

The  glint  of  stars  in  the  tropic  night, 

And  the  glorious  grey  of  the  dawn  in  a  fath 
omless  sky, 

The  splashing  of  waves  by  the  cleaving  prow, 
And  the  screech  of  gulls  flying  by; 

The  sights,  the  sounds,  and  the  mysteries, 
The  presence  of  God,  and  the  touch  of  His 
comforting  hand; 

The  sea,  and  a  ship,  and  an  old-time  quest, 
And  the  dimming,  distancing  land. 


117 


Old  Love  Letters 

A  FRAGRANT  perfume  clings  around  them  still, 
Of  violets,  and  clover,   and  of  thyme, 

And   memories   of   one    fair   woodland   hill, 
And  You  and  I  where  rambling  roses  climb. 

Of    You    and    I,    the    dear,    dear    dreams    we 

planned — 
The  vows  we  gave,  and  whispered  soft  and 

low- — 

The  centuries  our  deathless  love  had  spanned — 
And  that  was  only  one  short  year  ago. 

"Forever  thine."     "Thine  own  till  life  is  run," 
Your    letters    read.      My    head    swims    fast 
awhirl — 

For  you  are  married  to  another  one, 
And  I,  to-morrow,  wed  another  girl. 


118 


"Missing!" 

THE  bare,  brief,  brutal  lines; 

The   news  withheld,   yet   told; 
To  grip  the  heart  with  ghastly  fear, 

As  blood  runs  cold. 

Unknown,  a  loved  one's  fate; 

The  yawning,  sick'ning  dread, 
To  view  him  wounded  and  alone, 

Or  captured. — Dead!  .  .  . 

Not  dead,  dear  God,  not  dead — 
(We  who  have  loved  him  so) 

But  safe  and  sound,  and  winning  home — 
Ah,  God! — To  know! — To  know! 


119 


Respite 

THE  dawn  upon  the  hills  o'  home 

Beside   the  grey-lit  sea, 
A-shining  as  in   days  of  yore 

To  thrill  the  heart  of  me, 
A  wanderer — a  wanderer 

Who  yet  again  must  flee!  .  .  . 

A  little  while  to  live  and  laugh, 
A  little  while  to  play, 

Then  on  and  on  across  the  world 
Beyond  the  break  o'  day  .  .  . 

The  lights  of  home — Ah,  loved  of  old- 
Shine  dim  across  the  bay.  .  .  . 


1 20 


The  Last  Journey 

THE  wind-swept  sky,  the  wind-swept  sea,  and  all 

the  world  before  us, 
(God  be  with  the  golden  dream  that  lures  us 

on  again.) 
With  Romance  at  the  tiller,  and  the  screeching 

gulls  in  chorus 

To  welcome  us,  to  welcome  us  the  rovers  of 
the   main ! 

Exulting  at  the  freedom  with  the  freedom  of 

steering, 

Only  to  be  out  again  upon  the  open  sea, 
Nor  wishful  to  be  home  at  all,  nor  care  what 

shore  we're   nearing, 
Exulting  at  the  freedom  with  the  freedom  of 

the  free. 

But  those  of  us  who  dreamed  our  dream  and  saw 
it  swiftly  winging 
121 


The  Last  Journey 

Down  the  road  to  anywhere,  and  watched  with 

brimming  eyes; 
We  steal  into  the  pilot  house  where  Romance 

softly  singing 
Tells  us  oh,  so  gently  that  our  port  is  Paradise. 


122 


A  Question 

E'EN  though  our  dream  was  doomed  to  die 
Was  it  then  not  worth  the  dreaming? 

The  stolen  hours,  the  scented  hours, 
And  the  moonlight  silver  gleaming. 

The  whispered  word,  the  touch  of  lips, 
And  the  south  wind  softly  blowing, 

The  limpid  eyes,  the  dream-filled  eyes, 
And  the  love  beyond  all  knowing. 

The  song  that  laughed  within  our  ears, 
And   our  hearts  with   gladness   teeming — 

Though  deep  the  pain  and  the  dream  in  vain, 
Do  you  regret  the  dreaming? 


123 


Restoration 

WHEN  comes  my  time  to  go,  be  kind,  ah,  kind, 

Take  what  is  left  of  me; 
Lay  me  at  rest  on  a  lonely  shore 

With  my  face  to  the  sea. 

Touch  your  lips  to  my  wearied  brow, 

Taking  a  man's  farewell, 
Giving  me  back  to  my  love  of  old 

And  her  simple  spell. 

Each  to  each  ere  the  dream  may  die 

(Ever  will  faith  atone) 
That  the  sea  may  claim  what  was  hers,  at  last, 

And  I,  mine  own! 


124 


Ghosts 

THESE,  these,  come  to  me  these! 
Dear  Make-believe,  and  memories, 

Half-forgotten,    half-remembered    things    that 

dream 

Would  make  to  seem 
Too  cruelly  real,  too  poignant  for  a  Wanderer  to 

know. 
And  yet  as  glows  the  glory  of  the  Cross, 

The  wonder  and  the  beauty  of  the  South, 
They   come   caressing, 

Brushing   their   lips   against   my  mouth, 
Folding  me,  and  holding  me,  pressing 
Their  shadowy  beings,  and  whispering  dear  words 

very  low 

And  sweet  against  my  all-too-heeding  ear, 
So   marvellously   close,    and   so   most   terribly 
near. 

Sunshine  on  a  field,  and  poppies  swaying, 
And    little   children   playing 
125 


Ghosts 

In   the  laughter  of   the   day; 

And  far  away 
The  whistle  of  a  train  .  .  . 
Then  rain, 
The  sweet,   warm   smell   of   summer   rain, 

And  new-mown  hay; 
And  trees  glistening,  and  drenched  grass; 
And  little  feet  that  pass 

Hurriedly  across  the  gravel  walks,  the  loam 

To  the  sanctuary  of  home 
Perfumed  with  the  flowers  of  June, 

The  roses  that  stood 

In  myriad  clusters  on  the  wood 
Of   the  well-remembered   table   in   the  hall 

Down  by  the  place  where  coats  were  hung 

Or  flung 

Hastily — Children's   coats    and    things   on    pegs 
upon  the  wall. 

These  come  to  me — 

A  mother's  eyes  glistening  with  the  glories 

Of  thrice  told  Fairy  stories 

Ere  sleep  flew  down  on  angel  wings,  and  light, 
126 


Ghosts 

Delicately, 

Folded  her  arms  and  uncomplaining  led  away 

From  the  wonders  of  the  day, 
Sleepy,   little,  weary  heads 
Couched  in  small,  and  snowy  beds 

To  the  wonderness  of  Dream-land  in  the  king 
dom  of  Night. 

And  then — a  loved  one,  dear  words  spoken, 
Foolish,  little,  simple  things,  but  most  magic 
ally  true, 

Promises  that  Time  would  find  un-broken; 
And  lips  'gainst  yielding  lips,  warm  form  to 

form, 

Hot  breath   to   breath. 
A  trinket  given  as  a  token, 

Some  precious  gem;  and  Time  on  winged  feet 

flying, 

And    in    the    dusk,    the    droning    wings    of 
Death.  .  .  . 

Ah,  Christ! 

The  dreams  Youth  brought  of  Fortune,  Fame, 
127 


Ghosts 

And  glorious  Name, 

And  Gold,  shining  as  the  sunshine  on  a  wom 
an's  hair 

When  she  is  young,  and  dear,  and  kind, 

And  eyes  are  not  yet  blind 

To  the  good,  the  sweet,  the  loveliness  of  life, 
Nor  see  the  sordidness,  the  strife, 

The  great   enveloping  mantle  of   Despair. 

These  come  to  me — 

Poor,  little,  frail,  and  precious  things,  they  fade, 

Grow  dim,   and  vanish   in   the  air  as  smoke 

wind-blown 

From  friendly  chimneys  into  the  unresisting  sky 
And  infinity, 

And  I  am  left  immeasurably  alone. 


128 


The  Southern  Cross 

I  FIRST  saw — a  brooch  upon  your  breast, 

Dear,   delicate,   and  precious  thing, 
Fine  gold  and  diamonds ;  you  pressed 

It  close  against  your  bosom,  and  you  smiled 
At  me.     That  smile  caressed 

My  being  as  a  flame  .  .  . 

I    breathed   your   name    , 
And  said — What  was  't  I  said, 
My  lips  close  to  your  brown,  delightful  head? 

Ah  yes,  I  murmured  words  taught  me  of  para 
dise, 

And  then,  "This  cross  of  Southern  skies 

But  gains  its  glory   from   the  glory   in  your 
eyes." 

And  You — did  not  you  laugh 
And  call  me  dear,  and  foolish  names, 
And  lock  your  fingers  then  in  mine,  and  say — 
"The  real  cross  flames 
As  sunshine  in  the  day."  .  .  . 
129 


The  Southern  Cross 

The  Southern  Cross  is  gleaming  over-head, 
Flashing  and  flaming  in  the  velvet  skies — 

But  I  see  a  little  brooch  upon  your  breast, 
And  the  glory  that  was  stolen  from  your  eyes. 


130 


The  Mail-Runner 

As  ugly  as  sin,  and  as  black  as  the  Pit, 

With  clothes  nothing  much  and  those  few  do 

not  fit, 

A  goat-skin  or  two,  and  a  rag  on  his  back, 
He  bears  on  his  shoulders  a  dream-crowded  pack. 
He  comes  like  a  shadow  far  over  the  hills, 
He  comes  with  his  burden  of  sorrows  and  thrills, 
Of  love  and  of  laughter.    As  light  as  the  foam 
He   springs    down    the   trail   with — the   letters 

from  Home! 

And  here's  one  for  you  and  another  for  me 
To  bring  us  a  glimpse  of  the  whispering  sea, 
The  tang  of  the  salt  and  the  touch  of  the  brine, 
And  a  dream  that  was  yours,  and  a  dream  that 

was  mine. 

And  this  gives  us  Spring  in  the  far,  far  away, 
The  perfume  of  Thyme,  and  the  scent  of  the 

hay, 


The  Mail-Runner 

And  the  husk  of  a  memory  broken  and  pale — 
These,   these  are  the  letters  that  come  by  the 
Mail. 

And  what  would  ye  have  but  the  trust  of   a 

friend, 

A  letter  to  read,  and  a  day-dream  to  spend, 
A  heart  that  can  smile  through  the  mist  of  the 

years, 
And  the  dear  written  word  that  would  banish  the 

tears  ? 

Though  ugly  he  be  and  as  black  as  the  Pit, 
With  clothes  nothing  much  and  those  few  do  not 

fit, 

He  might  be  an  angel  with  wings  white  as  foam 
For   he   brings   to   us   Wanderers   letters    from 
Home! 


132 


African  Dawn 

THE  first  red  tints  flung  on  the  Eastern  sky 
Splash  and  grow  large  as  running  streams  of 

fire: 

The  night  is  o'er.     The  brilliant  stars  on  high 
Still  blazing  bright   grow   dim   to  vanish,   as 

desire 
Unsatisfied  must  wander  down  to  die.  -  .  . 

A  sound  shatters  the  silence.     The  beat  of   a 

drum, 
Impatient  and  shrill,  calling  the  tillers  of  the 

soil 
From   slumber,   and   from   dreams,   and   blissful 

peace 
To  wakefulness  and  toil. 

And  then  the  notes  are  stilled;  once  more  the 

world 

Is  handed  back  to  silence. 
133 


African  Dawn 

But  loud  a  cry,  ere  yet  the  gonfalons  of  night 

are   fully   furled, 

Comes   pealing   through    the   air — 
A  long,  wild,  drawn-out  monotone 

Summoning    the     faithful    unto    prayer,     to 
prayer ! 

From  out  the  winding,  honey-combed  bazaars, 
Blinking  in  the  stars, 

Shadowy  shapes  with  muffled  heads  bowed  low, 
Old   and   young — eagerly   they   plod 

A-down  the  tracks  of  sand  called  streets,  to 

that  dim  mosque 

To  cry  their  cry  again — "There  is  no  God  but 
God!" 

The  birds  burst  into  song,  even  as  at  home 
Yourself   have  heard   them  on  a  morn   in 

Spring — 
The  sun  comes  dancing  o'er  the  waves 

To  fling 

His  rays  on  all  the  world  of  Love,  and  Light, 
and   Melody 

134 


African  Dawn 

For  those,  who  would,  to  see  .  .  . 

But  they  know  not — Christians — the  greys,  the 

golds,  the  yellows,  and  the  reds, 
The    swaying    flowers    that    in    the    sun-light 

nod, 
The   myriad  scents,   the  Melody,   the  things 

that  sing  of  God — 

They  sleep — shapeless  and  dishevelled  lumps  ly 
ing  in  their  beds. 


135 


Night  in  Africa 

As  sinks  the  sun,  the  wind  comes  slowly  sigh 
ing 

Through  the  solemn  and  silent  trees  like  fin 
gers   playing 
Gently,   and  softly,   on  heart-strings  crying, 

Crooning,  and  sobbing;  the  fingers  straying 
Now  on  a  tremulous,  plaintive  chord,  then  sad 
der, 
Touching    the    depths    of    woe    and    the    old 

world's  sorrow; 

Springing  at  will  to  a  glorious  note,  and  gladder, 
Throbbing  of  Love  and  Hope  in  a  great  to 
morrow. 

Softly  the  shimmering  stars  come  shyly  peeping 
Out  of  the  heavens  to  marvel,  their  curious 

eyes 
Filled   with    wonder   the   world   should   so   lie 

sleeping, 
Figures  of  death,  and  deaf  to  the  music  creeping, 

136 


Night  in  Africa 

Sodden  with  slumber  and  lost  to  their  para 
dise. 

So  is  the  night  with  music  and  myst'ry  passing, 
So  is  the  dawn  approaching  on  winged  feet, 

Far  to  the  Eastward  the  sun-barbed  cohorts  are 

massing, 

Massing  to  shatter  the  dusk  and   the  music 
sweet. 

Dim  grow  the  stars,  and  the  night  grows  older 
and  older, 

Sweet  sings  the  wind,  and  his  sad  voice  sweeter 
and  bolder, 

Down  to  the  sea  and  away  o'er  the  silent  Deep 

To  where  in  a  distant  land  a  dreamer  stirs  in 
his  sleep. 


137 


' 


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